


Round 1, F- That's Not Fighting!

by MarsDragon



Category: Fatal Fury
Genre: Ficlet Collection, Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2019-11-28 23:22:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18215054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarsDragon/pseuds/MarsDragon
Summary: Sometimes I write scraps that are porn and I don't want Round 1, Fight!'s rating to go up.





	1. Noncon, Yamazaki/Geese

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not making any promises about content here, this is seriously just the explicit version of Round 1, Fight! However, since this is me, take that Rape/Noncon warning seriously and add an incest warning.

"Don't bother, they're useless." Geese winced and grabbed his side as pain tore through his body. _Damn_ Yamazaki. What kind of freak was that strong? To show up, smash through Geese and still be standing after...not even Terry Bogard had done that! The last time _anyone_ had done that to him was Krauser, so many years ago! The humiliation burned like acid in his gut.

"Yer serious? What a fuckin' ripoff! But I guess if you'd actually had that 'perfect, immortal body' I wouldn't've kicked yer ass just now." Yamazaki gave the scroll once last look before tossing it aside like garbage. He looked almost disappointed for a moment, before the bloodthirsty grin reasserted itself. "Might as well have some fun before I leave. Don't want this trip to be a total loss, ya know?"

Geese tensed and brought his arms up to guard - too slow. Yamazaki grabbed his throat and dragged him along the ground, the boards catching against the scars from his fall, until Geese's skull met solid wood and he couldn't think for the blinding pain. Somewhere above him Yamazaki laughed in the joy of bloody madness and Geese knew he had to get up and fight, but none of his limbs would work and his vision was hazed with red. 

Another beating, then. He'd probably survive. Yamazaki was strong, far stronger than he'd expected, but it would take more than that to kill Geese Howard.

But the blows weren't coming. He could feel Yamazaki's oppressive presence crouching over him, but there was no new pain blooming on his body. Geese pressed a hand to his aching head and pushed himself up with a terrible leaden slowness. He had to know what was going on.

"Long underwear? Ghahahahahah! What kinda grandpa are you?" Yamazaki grinned wildly, his hands at Geese's waist and holding the undone himo. The front of Geese's hakama was already pulled down to expose the plain close pants beneath, and as he watched Yamazaki hauled his legs up to finish the job.

Geese lashed out from pure fighting instinct. A quick palm to Yamazaki's filthy face went wide, barely ruffling his hair, and the second strike was interrupted by Yamazaki's fist slamming into his stomach. Geese barely had the strength to struggle when Yamazaki finished unwrapping the himo and used them to tie his hands to the post above his head. 

The himo were loosely tied in a quick double overhand knot so Yamazaki could get back to removing the hakama themselves. Geese could undo them with a bit of time and effort - but that wouldn't give him the strength to overcome Yamazaki's freakish power. So. Free himself now and get beaten and tied up again, then left for anyone to find in the most miserable, humiliating position of his life...or wait and bide his strength until Yamazaki got bored and left, then plan out a most satisfying murder.

Geese had always prided himself on being a realist.

His hakama were stripped off and tossed away as easily as the scroll. 

"Really went all out, didn't ya. Don't'cha know yer white?" Yamazaki said as he settled himself between Geese's unwillingly spread legs. He leered down. "Then again, ya don't have a lot of hair for a gaijin. You wax or somethin'?"

"That's rich coming from a bottle blond," Geese gritted out. 

Yamazaki's fist met his face with an explosion of pain. "Shaddyup." His leg was hoisted up to Yamazaki's shoulder, followed by the ugly sound of Yamazaki spitting. "Better hold still, gramps, or this's gonna hurt like a bastard." 

Yamazaki shoved in without preamble and it hurt like a bastard anyway. Geese bit down hard and tried to breathe. He was used to pain by now. It was being trapped, helpless, under a man that didn't deserve to lick his shoes that really hurt. 

It was like he was still the foolish child that had charged into the devil's castle with just the barest plans of avenging his mother, only to meet reality in Krauser's hellish might. 

Yamazaki set up a quick, brutal pace; apparently he wanted to get this over with as well. Good. He panted like a rutting dog and smelled worse. 

"Be prepared, Yamazaki," Geese said when he could trust his voice again, "I _will_ kill you for this. Someday." 

The only reply was wild laughter. "Sure, I'm real scared! I saw what ya did to Krauser and Terry, after all! ...oh, right." A particularly harsh trust made Geese grunt, to which Yamazaki just laugh harder. He kept the same pace without a single sign of tiring. "Face it, old man, yer time is over. It's time for ya to find a nice farm upstate where ya can run around and play."

Geese didn't dignify that with a response, not that Yamazaki cared. He thrust a few more times and gasped, throwing himself forward in an awkward flop as he finished inside Geese. After that he just laid there, thick, heavy, and oblivious to the painful way he'd bent them both in half. Finally he heaved a long, satisfied sigh and got up.

"Later, Geese. Lookin' forward to the rematch! See ya!" His maniac laughter echoed throughout the tower long after he'd left.

Geese grimly gathered the shreds of his dignity and worked on undoing the himo before Ripper and Hopper got the idea to check on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH YEAH THE JIN SCOLLS JUST DON'T WORK
> 
> THAT'S WHY GEESE DIES IN REAL BOUT, IMMORTALITY WAS A LIE THE ENTIRE TIME
> 
> I should probably put that somewhere but in the collection I know no one will read, but hell, it's already on my site....my site I swear I will update as soon I finish grinding away the home ports of Fatal Fury 1.


	2. Wild Wolf/Rock/Terry

Rock punched high, the Terry doppelganger ducked, and suddenly Rock was flying backward from the solid impact of the doppelganger's shoulder into his chest. He hit the basket pole off-centre and only took a second to recover, but it was too late. The doppelganger's fist was in his face.

It tapped his nose. "Good fight!" the doppelganger cheerfully exclaimed. His posture, his voice, and his grin were all perfectly Terry...if his style hadn't been a decade out of date. Rock didn't know why anyone would want to imitate how Terry had looked ten years ago, but he'd never been able to figure out what the imitators got out of their impersonations anyway. Couldn't they come up with their own style?

Big words for the guy who'd just lost. Rock shook his head and straightened up. "Good fight," he echoed, trying to keep the sullen tinge out of his voice. Next time he'd be faster, next time he'd be stronger, next time he'd do better. Next time he'd win. 

The doppelganger's hand landed comfortably on his shoulder. "Hey, don't look so down. You did great." He leaned in until his nose was a hairsbreadth from Rock's and Rock was very aware of how clear and blue Terry's eyes were under that hat. The doppelganger's voice was suddenly a lot lower and way more intense. "My blood's pounding, you know?" His breath was soft and warm on Rock's face.

Which was burning hot. Rock stood stock still for a moment, caught between the desire to back away and to lean forward. He could - but it was Terry - but it wasn't really, it was some weirdo who liked dressing up as Terry - but it sure _looked_ like Terry - 

The doppelganger smiled in a way that could be friendly if the burning eyes hadn't turned it into an invitation. His hand was still on Rock's shoulder and he was so close. 

Fuck it. It wasn't really Terry and he was right there and Rock's blood was pounding too, his evil blood threatening to boil over if he didn't do _something_. He threw an arm around the doppelganger's waist and pulled him close, pressing himself up against that firm, muscled chest like he hadn't done in years and never like this, not when he was aware of the throbbing ache in his crotch or the harsh breath in his lungs.

The doppelganger laughed and moved his hand to Rock's neck, thumb on Rock's chin, and dragged his head upwards until their lips met. It was wet and messy and Rock stumbled a half step backwards trying to adjust to the way the doppelganger's legs were suddenly tangled with his own. 

His back hit something warm and solid. Another arm wrapped around his torso as a familiar voice whispered in his ear: "Careful there, rookie. Don't lose your balance."

"T-Terry?!" Rock jerked away from the doppelganger's lips and twisted to look behind him. It was Terry, his Terry, with the shorter hair but the same bright, clear eyes and the same warm smile. The same strong arms trapping and supporting him at the same time.

The doppelganger nodded in greeting. "Hey there."

"Hey."

"Where did-" Rock was cut off when the doppelganger ground their crotches together and that pushed his ass back against Terry and - Jesus, was that Terry's dick? It felt big - all he could do was hold on as Terry and the doppelganger's hands stroked all over his body.

The doppelganger gave Rock a lazy, satisfied smile and to hell with that. Rock wormed his arm out from where Terry had pinned it and dragged the doppelganger back down for another kiss. He bit at the doppelganger's lips and pressed his tongue inside, determined to touch, to taste, to feel everything. The doppelganger made a soft, surprised noise and Rock took that as encouragement to go further, deeper, to prove that the son of a wolf was a wolf, dammit.

The effect was ruined when Terry nibbled at his ear and Rock let out a high-pitched squeak, followed by even more embarrassing noises when Terry's hand squeezed between them to cup his painfully hard dick. The doppelganger took the opportunity to lick his way back into Rock's mouth and it was too much, too much hot, desperate sensation -

Rock rolled over and opened his eyes. 

His room. His blankets, his bed, his bag and his window with the view of Geese Tower. His annoying hard-on.

Cripes. The hell kind of dream was that? The weird, out-of-date Terry doppelganger and actual Terry? What was his subconsciousness on, thinking he wanted...

...long blond hair, handsome face, firm muscles and a toned ass...

Rock buried his burning face in the pillow as his hand slipped beneath the covers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember that one time SNK wanted to put classic Terry and Garou Terry in the same game so they just named one of them Wild Wolf? That was weird. 
> 
> And yeah if this is in here the other Rock -> Terry should be in here too but I'm lazy.


	3. Noncon, Geese/Jeff

Terry's cap lay abandoned in the street.

Jeff looked at it, then at the receding figures running down the street, and sighed. You'd think a kid without much would be more careful with what he did have, but not Terry. He picked the cap up and tucked it into a pocket, already planning out a new lecture on the importance of taking care of your things. He could give both to Terry at the park.

The sound of a revving motor broke his chain of thought - what kind of asshole would go that fast in a residential area, and when had he become the kind of person who thought like that? - and Jeff glanced over to see a black luxury car tear down the street and come to a skidding halt in front of him.

Black luxury car. Tinted windows. GEESE license plate.

Well _shit_. 

Jeff dropped into a fighting stance as his former brother unfolded himself from the back of the car. "Thought you left," he said.

Geese shrugged. "I came back." Then he took his own stance, and it was on.

Jeff could tell he was outmatched from the beginning. Whatever Geese had been doing for the past two years it had kept him in better shape than running around after two kids. He was stronger, faster, more skilled. The slight edge Jeff had kept throughout their training had quietly disappeared. 

He did his best. He got a few hits in, solid ones that made Geese stumble. But it wasn't enough. It just wasn't enough. 

Jeff threw a perfect straight punch, only for Geese to catch it and use the momentum to throw him into a wall. He twisted enough to not catch the bricks with his face, but the impact jarred his bones and made his ears ring. He was still trying to get his balance back when Geese was there. 

One of Geese's arms went under Jeff's in a half nelson and the other was circling around his waist. Jeff threw them both against the wall in a desperate attempt to at least stop things from getting worse - his head was still spinning, he couldn't do much else - and it trapped both of their right arms. He couldn't do anything, but at least Geese would have trouble doing any real damage. 

Geese's chest was pressed up against Jeff's back and his breath was hot on Jeff's neck. He didn't seem interested in anything else. The moment stretched between them, silent but for rough breath and distant traffic. 

Jeff tensed, trying to figure out Geese's angle. Honestly, right now he was at Geese's mercy, without the strength or leverage to mount an effective escape. About all he could do was blindly stomp behind him and hope he got one of Geese's feet. 

A hand squeezed his crotch. Jeff yelped, threw himself back against Geese's unmovable weight, and twisted in a futile attempt at escape. Nothing worked. Geese's hand cupped his dick and began to steadily rub up and down, bringing a strange, uncomfortable warmth with it.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Geese?" Jeff snarled, trying to ignore the heavy pulse of blood through his body and the way he was starting to harden in Geese's hand. There was hitting below the belt - which he had honestly thought Geese was above - and there was this. 

"Hmph. Quiet." Geese's voice was perfectly calm, like he was practicing a move in the dojo instead of groping his sworn brother in a filthy alley. He somehow managed to get Jeff's belt and pants open one-handed, despite Jeff's continuing struggles. Then his hand slipped inside and Jeff forced himself to stay still.

If this was Geese's plan...well, he understood his former brother a hell of a lot less than he thought he had. He remembered an awkward teenager who practiced day and night, helped Jeff and Cheng steal Master Tung's plum wine, and had a tendency to mope. There wasn't anything in there about this...though, really, there hadn't been anything about getting in with the mob either. 

Geese didn't tease. He grabbed Jeff's dick and stroked it slowly and patiently with a firm, steady grip. The smooth material of his glove slipped over the sensitive skin with no resistance, cool in a way that didn't make sense with how hot the air around them had become. 

Jeff really hoped Terry wasn't coming back for his cap. He had no idea how to begin to explain this to a ten-year-old. 

He bit his lip and tried to hold on against the unwelcome sensations, but then Geese's thumb rubbed just right and he couldn't resist shoving his hips forward. God, it had been way too long. The pace of Geese's strokes increased, turning hard and fast, driving Jeff closer and closer to the edge until he jerked and came with a harsh, choked noise.

Geese let go and stepped back like nothing had happened. Jeff took a minute to try and get a grip on the situation - it still felt surreal, like a bad joke - then quickly shoved himself back in his pants and rounded on Geese. "What the hell was that?"

"Two years ago, I heard about your activities right as I was forced to flee this city," Geese said, adjusting his gloves and smoothing out his vest. "On that day, I swore to return after I had become the strongest man so I could rub you off."

"Wha-"

"Now...let's boogie-doodie!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahahaha [fuck.](http://marsdragon.brontoforum.us/SNK/aof2/misc.html)
> 
> Geese Howard is a deeply ridiculous man and we should never forget this fact.


	4. Noncon, Garou, Kain/Rock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow-up to [this chapter](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14825747/chapters/46949350) of Round 1, Fight!

Rock stared at the hands braced on the desk in front of him. His hands. Right now the connection felt a little distant. 

It wasn't like he had to do all that much. Hold still for a few minutes and Kain would tell him what happened to Mom. Easy. And Rock wasn't completely stupid, he'd made a deal first. Clothes stay on, belts stay closed, no marks left or there'd be hell to pay. He could beat Kain in a straight fight and if things went too far then, well, he didn't really _like_ the Raging Storm but it would get someone off his back in a hurry. So that was more or less all right. He had limits and a way out. Everything was fine.

Better than killing people for his asshole crime lord uncle. At this least would be over quick; then he could get on with his life.

He swallowed hard as a pair of gloved hands came to rest on his own. There was a heavy weight pressed against his back and someone else's breath tickling his ear. "Ready, partner?"

"Let's get this over with."

Kain chuckled, and his left hand slid backwards, caressing Rock's wrist before moving to his waist. The touch made his skin crawl and left goosebumps in its wake, but...too late now. All Rock had to do was hold on. 

He really should've worn a longer shirt. Kain's hand was brushing against the bare skin between his shirt and his jeans and it took effort to hold still and quiet. Along his waist, across his bellybutton, and then up- 

Rock's control broke and he shoved himself backwards with a yelp. "Hey! Clothes stay _on_ , freak!" 

"Don't worry, nothing will come off." Kain's voice was right in his ear and Rock was suddenly very aware he'd shoved himself right up against the creepy bastard. "Don't tell me you'd break our bargain over a trifle like this."

Kain's hand under his shirt didn't feel like a trifle, but he couldn't argue back without sounding like a whiny little kid. Rock forced himself to settle back down - Kain kept their bodies pressed entirely too close together - and tried to ignore the smooth slide of leather over his churning stomach. The air felt cool on his exposed skin, like someone had turned the AC up too high, while his face felt like it was on fire.

Something soft and wet brushed his neck. Kain was...licking him? God, Rock had thought people only did that in movies. It didn't hurt, but it felt weird and uncomfortable against too-sensitive skin. He'd never even thought of his neck as particularly sensitive before. Kain worked down from his ear, kissing and licking - Rock's heart was hammering in his chest so hard he was sure Kain could feel it - until suddenly there was the sharp feeling of teeth digging into his skin.

"H-Hey! No marks!" Since when was his voice that squeaky? 

"This won't leave anything lasting. Trust me," Kain murmured. He bit down again, but lightly, and it sent a strange, creepy shiver down Rock's spine. The words _"Why the hell would I trust you?"_ wandered across his mind but got driven out a second later by the hand on his thigh - when had Kain moved his other hand? - moved to his crotch.

Rock tried to protest but the only thing that came out was a high-pitched noise when Kain started to rub and squeeze his dick. He didn't have a chance to get his voice under control before Kain was talking. "You didn't think I was selfish, did you? I'll take care of you, partner." His breath was cool on the damp skin of Rock's neck. "Unless...you want to call off our deal?" 

Any protest died in Rock's throat. He couldn't stop now when he was so close. Just...hold still and find out what happened to Mom. That was all. His fingers whitened on the desk, but Rock bowed his head and kept quiet. 

He thought about raising his hands when Kain pressed up against his ass and he could feel the creepy bastard's dick digging into his flesh. Raise his hands, call up the storm inside, throw Kain into the wall where he'd break apart and never bother anyone again... It was a nice image. It would've been a lot easier to do if Kain didn't have him by the balls, literally and figuratively. As if to emphasize the point, Kain's hand slipped a bit lower and gave a gentle squeeze. Even though there were at least three layers of cloth between him and Kain, Rock felt his dick jump at the contact. 

There was a flash of pain from his mouth and Rock realised he was biting his lips. He was still trying to work out if it was less damaging to bite or to grind his teeth - he could afford a dentist now, but broken teeth sucked - when Kain started grinding against him in earnest. 

Rock ended up biting his cheek at the feeling of Kain's dick sliding against his ass. His blood couldn't seem to decide where to go and rushed around his body, filling his ears with noise, and he felt hot and tight all over. God. He wished Terry was here, Terry would lay Kain out in one punch and then - 

-and then he'd see Rock like this and _no_. Anything but that. That would be the worst, the absolute worst, Terry would never see Rock as strong or worthy ever again and Rock would rather die than lose Terry's respect.

It would be fine. Once this was over he could go home, they'd find Mom, and they'd all live happily together. Mom was nice and pretty and she'd hit it off with Terry right away. Everything would be fine.

His breath sounded ragged and Rock vaguely realised he was moving against Kain's hand, trying to get more friction on his hard dick. When had that started? And why couldn't he stop? Kain wasn't kissing his neck anymore, just digging his chin into Rock's shoulder while panting like a dog, and then he gave a soft gasp and shoved himself right up against Rock, so close they were almost merging and his hand was still rubbing Rock's dick -

Rock shuddered and came in his pants like some stupid virgin. Which...he wasn't sure if he still was or not and he didn't really want to think about that right now.

His arms were shaking. Rock forced them still and took a few deep breaths. That hadn't been that bad. Gross, sure, but it was over now and he was still in one piece. Could've been a lot worse. 

Kain relaxed against him with a soft, contented noise. Screw that. Rock shook off the warm, satisfied feeling that wanted to flow through his body and slapped Kain's hands away. Creepy bastard took the hint and stepped away, denying Rock the chance to shove him off because even when he was being considerate he was a dick.

"All right," Rock snapped as he spun around, "where's my mom? Tell me!"

Kain shrugged. "Not in Southtown or Second Southtown. She left about a decade ago, the same night Geese died."

"...and? Where is she now?!"

"You think I'd give that information up so cheaply?" Kain gave him a long, cool look. "You'll need to offer much more than that."

Rock's fist met his face with a satisfyingly sick crack. Kain hit the wall behind them and failed to block the follow-up strike to his stomach. Rock grabbed him by the collar and hauled him forward with every bit of strength he had so he could smash the dirty, lying bastard straight back into the wall hard enough to dent the plaster.

"You- you _asshole_! We had a deal! You think you can get away with that?"

The cool look never faded from Kain's face, even with a broken and bloody nose. "I told you I'd tell you what happened to Marie, and I did. She left Southtown the night Geese died. If you want more, then you'll have to make another deal." He smiled, wide and smug as a snake with a mouse. "Settle down. We both know you're not going to beat the answer out of me."

Rock was sure as hell tempted to try. He gave Kain another hard punch across the face, which didn't dislodge the smug look either, then let go, feeling tired and sick. Bastard was right. If Rock was capable of doing that, he wouldn't be in this mess in the first place. "I'm- I'm not-"

"If you don't want this then you can always do the work I ask you to do. Even you have to admit it suits your skills."

"Go to hell." Terry hadn't taught him martial arts so he could become a murderer. He didn't _want_ to be a murderer. He wasn't like Geese, no matter what the blood pounding in his veins said. 

It would be so easy to just keep hitting Kain until the bastard finally shut up, which was why Rock clenched his fist and turned away. 

"Well, those are your options - if you're going to stay and find out about Marie." Kain pushed himself off the wall and adjusted his coat. "I'll let you think about it," he said, like a kindly uncle just trying to do his best for his nephew, and left. 

_"Run and hide behind the Legendary Wolf; I'm sure he'd be happy to protect you."_

Dammit. He could be Kain's assassin or he could be Kain's whore, and those were the only options open because running home with his tail between his legs was unthinkable. He wasn't a snot-nosed kid that needed to hide behind Terry anymore. He was a man, and a man faced his problems head-on without flinching. 

He could find out about Mom by covering his hands with blood - he could imagine the look on her face when she saw him like that and it made him want to curl up and die - or he could do it by laying down and spreading his legs for the sick freak that called himself Rock's uncle and give up the last few ounces of his self-respect in the process.

_"Just know I believe in you. That's all..."_

Rock slumped back against the desk with his hand pressed against his eyes. How had it gotten this bad?


End file.
